An Untoward Circumstance, Extras
by mydearlizzy
Summary: A selection of one-shots, expansions, character studies, etc. from An Untoward Circumstance. Please read that story first. E/D, J/B, M/OC, K/Mr. Stone L/OC, Mr.B/Mrs.B


AN: This will be a series of one-shots, deleted scenes, expansions, etc. from my story _An Untoward Circumstance_. If you have not read that story first, a great deal of this will not make sense to you! I recommend you read the original first and come back for more if you genuinely enjoyed it. :)

For my readers, hello again! I've missed you! I will make no promises about updating, but I have been missing these characters and am thrilled to bring them back for an encore. I will try to begin each scene with a reminder of where it falls within the story, if relevant - I know it's been a while! If there are any scenes from the original story that you would like see expanded, or any scenes you would like to see that I left out, do let me know and I'll have a think about them.

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**Mr. Stone Meets Miss Catherine**

**Time:** 12 December (Thursday) - 15 December (Sunday)

**Relevant Chapters:** 25, 34

**Situation:** Kitty found it difficult to remain at Longbourn surrounded by her sister's memory and has returned to London with the Gardiners for the few weeks before Christmas. At her uncle's home she is introduced to his handsome but solemn clerk, Mr. Stone.

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Mr. Stone was by no means a loquacious man. If pressed, one would call him 'quiet,' 'reserved,' or perhaps 'shy.' He was the sort of person not naturally inclined to share his thoughts with the world at large, although close friends and family might earn the right to hear his opinions on occasion. He saw no need to acquaint others with his business, much less his feelings.

Of his background there was little to say – the son of a vicar in a country parish, he had been reasonably educated and cared for during his youth. His childhood was the stuff of idylls, full of long summers in fields and forests and long winters cosily ensconced in the tiny vicarage parlour with his family. He had just time enough to settle himself into his business as a junior clerk at Gardiner Imports before his father had passed away from a combination of illness and old age, leaving in his care an elderly mother and a young sister. While their father had left them plenty of support, they could not keep the lifestyle they had prior to his death. Renting some small apartments in Bath for the health of Mrs. Stone, and establishing Miss Stone in a school nearby, saw them settled comfortably. While not, perhaps, close to London, Bath was at least not particularly distant, and it served their situation very well.

Mr. Gardiner very quickly recognized the sensibility of the young clerk in his employ and began to involve him more in the running of the import business, particularly the sale and distribution of imported products upon arrival. Mr. Stone rose through the ranks quickly, in the business and in Mr. Gardiner's esteem, and it was not long before he became a regular fixture at the Gardiner household on matters of both business and pleasure. Mr. Stone rented a room from an elderly lady along with a few other young clerks, a serviceable situation but by no means as comfortable as he might desire. Dinners with the Gardiner family, particularly in the company of the children, brought a great deal of pleasure and comfort to the man well accustomed to a cheerful domestic scene and so far from his own.

When tragedy struck Mr. Gardiner's family, Mr. Stone was more than happy to accept primary responsibility for the running of the business while Mr. Gardiner and his family travelled to Hertfordshire to comfort and care for their relatives following the death of one of their young nieces. Assuming the child had succumbed to some illness, and recalling the young sister he had long ago lost to a similar cause, Mr. Stone empathized with the family and was quick to offer his services. Mr. Gardiner gratefully agreed and did not return for nigh on two weeks.

When he did return, it was not only with the usual assortment of children – he had also brought with him one of his nieces.

Mr. Stone could not comprehend a child leaving the family fold so soon after the death of another child, but was soon made to understand that the child, Kitty, had been very close to the sister who had died and would benefit from some distance from the situation. While Mr. Stone would never choose such a thing for himself or his family, he could recognize that people deal with grief in different ways. It was, perhaps, for the benefit of the parents and their grief that the girl had been brought to London – Mr. Stone could imagine it might be difficult to lose a child and be oft-reminded of that child by the presence of its compatriot. He approached the Gardiner residence that Thursday evening prepared to encounter a grief-stricken child and, perhaps, share a few of the sweets which he often carried for the Gardiner children.

To then be introduced to Miss Catherine, a well-formed young lady of some seventeen years with soulful eyes and pouting lips, was a shock. Dressed in full mourning and as pale as death herself, the girl had been polite in response to his automatic greeting and seemed somewhat self-conscious. She clearly was as surprised by his presence as he was by hers. Quickly absconding to the study, Mr. Stone threw all of his attention into his report to Mr. Gardiner on the last couple weeks of business. He did not allow himself to consider the girl until much later in the quiet of his bare, rented accommodations, lying on his bed and staring into the darkness with the picture of her eyes bright in his mind.

Her suffering, he could see, was acute. He wondered anew of the circumstances of her sister's death – was the sister a child, as he had supposed 'Kitty' to be, or was she also a young lady? It seemed likely now that the sister was older than he supposed, and he could not help but somehow feel that it made the circumstances even more tragic. It seemed to him somehow worse to lose a young woman in the bloom of her youth. Children often succumbed to various illnesses; it was not uncommon to lose children before their tenth year. The sister he had lost so long ago had been very young - five years old - and it had been heart-breaking to lose her. His living sister was only just fifteen – the idea of losing her now, when he was only just beginning to know and understand her as an adult, was gut-wrenching.

That Mr. Stone wished to know more of the girl he could not deny, but he was careful to only allow himself the barest of inquiries in Mr. Gardiner's presence. The girl's family was landed gentry and her uncle was his employer – any interest would have to be shown cautiously, and it should certainly not appear so early on in the mourning period. It was not until he, along with Mr. Clark, Manager of Accounts, was invited to dinner with the Gardiners on the Sunday evening that he was able to learn any more about Mr. Gardiner's bright-eyed niece.

Miss Catherine seemed, if it were possible, even paler and more exhausted than when he had last seen her. Her eyes, in which he had seen such emotion, were dull. She seemed to struggle to keep herself upright and awake – she stifled a yawn more than once, and he could see her head nodding now and then. She barely touched the food on her plate, and he saw Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner exchange more than one concerned look. He was surprised that the mention of his family in Bath was the morsel of information which caught her attention and drew her into the conversation. While it certainly could have nothing to do with him, Mr. Stone could not help but feel some gratification that he had been the one to awaken those eyes even just slightly.

When the conversation moved on to politics, Mr. Stone struggled to think of what else he might say to draw the girl into conversation. It seemed to him that she was caught up in her own miserable thoughts, and he wished to pull her out of them and engage her in the real world. He tried to ask about her time in London and her relations with the Gardiners, but received minimal answers in response. At last, he allowed himself the question he was most interested in, just to see if it got a reaction from her.

"I dare say this is a very personal question, Miss Bennet, and I beg you to feel no obligation to answer it," Mr. Stone said slowly, studying her face carefully for any sign of offense. "I rather wondered why you should choose to come to London for your mourning. When my father died, I found my mother and sister a great source of comfort. Have you no such comforts at home?"

Miss Catherine did respond, as he expected, with an expression which proved he had very nearly offended her. He had to restrain a smile when he saw a bit of a spark in her eyes again. She studied his face for a moment and seemed to come to some conclusion which allowed her to relax. Her expression softened and a flash of warmth appeared.

"My family was – is – a great source of comfort," she confessed. "However, my sister and I were very close. We shared a bedroom for all of our lives and spent nearly every minute together, waking or sleeping. We had the same friends, the same jokes, the same favourite walking paths. While my other sisters are a great comfort to me, I found it very difficult to get through the day when the ghost of my sister seemed to appear around every corner. It is easier to be here for now, where my sister and I did not spend much time together. I feel like I can breathe again. I do not know when I will go back to Longbourn, for I do not know how I shall face her memory there."

"It is very wise of you to distance yourself from that which makes it impossible to grieve and reflect," Mr. Stone commented after a moment of reflection. He could not imagine doing so himself, but he recognized that people grieve in different ways and admired the fact that she had done what was best for her own peace of mind at the risk of the censure of her acquaintances. "I commend your courage in making that decision. It must have been difficult to leave your family at such a time."

She seemed surprised to be praised and looked at him for a long moment with bemusement plain across her face.

"I thank you, Mr. Stone, but please – it was not wise or courageous," Miss Catherine protested weakly, fixing her gaze on her plate once again. "I was just … very tired."

"Grief is very tiring," Mr. Stone agreed. Miss Catherine seemed to silently agree, avoiding his eye. Mr. Stone was soon recalled to the general conversation, his opinion on a recent Parliamentary decision being requested, and he did not have a chance to continue their discussion for the rest of the meal.

When at last Mrs. Gardiner recommended that she and Kitty remove to the parlour and the gentlemen stood to see them out, the party was very quickly thrown into confusion when Miss Catherine speedily stood and with equal speed collapsed, her head colliding with the dining table with a sickening sound.

Beside her, Mr. Stone let out an astonished cry and rushed to assist – at the head of the table, Mr. Gardiner jumped to his feet to do the same. Mrs. Gardiner, hand over her mouth, ran to ring for the footman and the butler. Mr. Clark remained in his seat, gaping with pure shock at the scene before his eyes. It could not be entirely surprising that there was a great deal of blood, and Mr. Stone grew very concerned by the pallor of her face in contrast.

Within a few minutes, a footman had been bundled up and sent for the physician and Kitty had been safely removed (with the help of the butler, Mr. Gardiner, and Mr. Stone) to the parlour sofa. A cool cloth was applied to her forehead, also serving to stem some of the bleeding from the wound. Mr. Clark awkwardly excused himself to his room, seeing no need to impose himself upon the family at such a time. Mr. Stone remained, sitting on a chair by the fire with his head in his hands and a very guilty expression, his heart in his stomach.

"I am so sorry, sir," he apologized to Mr. Gardiner seriously. "I should have caught her – I was the nearest. I could have saved her this injury."

"Oh, come, John, don't be ridiculous," Mr. Gardiner refused his apology decidedly. "It happened very quickly – you are not to blame."

"Perhaps I have been working her too hard," Mrs. Gardiner mused regretfully, brushing some loose curls from the girl's pale face. "I thought she was happier to have things to do, but perhaps it was too much. The children have exhausted her, and she has lost weight. She must not be eating well. Oh, God, Edward!" she cried, putting a hand over her mouth to cover her distress. "I only meant to help! Whatever will we tell Thomas and Fanny?"

Mr. Gardiner knelt beside his wife and handed her a handkerchief, embracing her warmly. Mr. Stone averted his eyes politely, turning them instead to the pale face resting on the cushion.

"She is not dead, Maddie," he assured her soothingly. "She has only fainted. Wounds from the head bleed a great deal, but I do not know that it is so very serious. The physician will tell us what to do and what to tell her parents."

The room was silent for the next half hour as they awaited the physician, the only noise the sound of Mrs. Gardiner's muffled tears and the occasional shuffle when the cloth on Kitty's forehead was exchanged for a fresh one. Mr. Stone was aware that his presence was hardly necessary, perhaps not even welcome, but he could not bring himself to remove from the room without knowing what the physician had to say.

At long last, movement in the hall alerted the small party to the arrival of the physician. Mr. Gardiner rose but only made it to the door before the man was hurried into the parlour with very little ceremony.

"Goodson! Thank you for coming!" Mr. Gardiner breathed with relief.

"I am sorry I could not be here sooner," the man replied, his beard white with snow rather than age. "The weather has become very bad – this snow is only going to get worse, I'm sure. This is your niece?"

"Yes, Miss Catherine Bennet. Kitty, as we call her."

Such a youthful name for such aged eyes, Mr. Stone mused.

The physician pulled an armchair near the sofa so that he could examine her.

"She has fainted and not awoken, is that right?"

"Yes, that is it."

"Has she been eating?"

"Very little," Mrs. Gardiner answered this question, being more knowledgeable of the girl's eating habits than either of the men could claim to be. "She claims to have no appetite."

"She is in mourning, it seems – that is not so uncommon," Goodson mused. "She is otherwise healthy?"

"Yes, she is not sickly."

"Is she prone to fainting spells?"

"I have never heard of one. In fact, I have not heard of such from any of our nieces."

"What did she strike her head upon?"

"The table in the dining room – she fainted upon standing from dinner."

Goodson was quiet for a long while, stroking his dark beard (now that the snow had melted in the heat of the fire) occasionally and studying the girl with his dark eyes. At last, he gave his verdict.

"Do not be alarmed, Gardiner – I do not believe it to be so very serious," he said calmly. "She was unconscious, but I believe she is only sleeping now. She has been tired recently? Yes, yes, I thought so. The girl is exhausted, grief-stricken, and not eating well – that is all that is the matter. Very easily solved. Take her to bed and let her rest. She will have shaken her brain a bit with that knock upon the table and will likely need a few days of quiet. I recommend keeping her from the children as much as possible, preferably in dim lighting as she will likely suffer from headaches. She ought not to attempt reading or writing for a while, and she should eat and sleep as much as she can. I will come back tomorrow to examine her when she is awake, weather permitting."

"What should we tell her parents?" Mrs. Gardiner queried, wringing her hands fearfully.

"You shan't be able to tell them anything until this storm is through," Goodson noted with good humour. "She shall be well recovered by then, and they need only know that she experienced a brief fainting spell. It is unlikely to be reoccurring, provided she remembers to rest and eat well. I must be getting back before this storm gets any worse. I shall leave instructions with the footman in case of emergency."

A few hasty farewells later, the parlour was once against quiet.

"Shall I call for John to help move her upstairs?" Mrs. Gardiner asked, worry etching her brow.

"There is no need for that, Mrs. Gardiner," Mr. Stone said before he had even fully formed the thought in his head. "The poor man has just been out in the worst snowstorm of the century and may faint himself from exhaustion if we put him to such a task, begging your pardon. I can carry her, if you will allow me."

Mrs. Gardiner looked to her husband with inquiring eyes. He looked at his clerk thoughtfully and then to his niece and then back again. He rubbed his brow and sighed.

"I think he's right, Madeleine," he agreed at last. "I don't think we should risk another fall. If you will go ahead to open doors and prepare the bed, I shall follow behind to ensure their safe ascension."

The plan was quickly agreed upon as being the best possible option under the circumstances. Mrs. Gardiner removed the cloth from Kitty's forehead as Mr. Stone slipped his arms beneath her limp form and lifted her very carefully. Her body was seemed cool against his own, and the gash on her head seemed harsher when observed closely. He cradled her closely, Mr. Gardiner helping to rest her head carefully against his shoulder so that it should not be shaken. Mrs. Gardiner then rushed ahead to open the parlour door, calling for the maids to see about getting coals in her bed and a fresh cloth for her head.

Kitty stirred as she was settled in Mr. Stone's arms, emitting a small groan and scrunching her eyes against the light as soon as she opened them. She pushed her face into his chest, hiding her eyes from the well-lit parlour. Mr. Stone could hardly be held responsible for the erratic pacing of his heart in such a moment – how he wished to shield her from the rest of the world!

"Relax, Miss Bennet," Mr. Stone said quietly. "You will be abed soon, and then you may sleep."

"It hurts," she whimpered, her voice soft and breathless. "Please don't move so much!"

"Shhh," he hushed her gently, slowing his movements to accommodate her command as much as he reasonably could. "I'm afraid we do have to move, Miss Bennet, or we will never reach our intended destination. I shall go as carefully as I can."

He took his time on the narrow stairs of the London town house, angling her body so that she did not bump against walls or rails. Mr. Gardiner followed closely behind, his hands ever-ready at Mr. Stone's back in case the man should stumble.

When they reached the small guest room which Kitty was occupying for the duration of her stay, Mrs. Gardiner was there with the upstairs maid and the scullery maid. The scullery maid was stoking the fire, a copper bed warmer beside her. The upstairs maid was rustling through the wardrobe, and Mrs. Gardiner was turning down the bed covers. Mr. Stone eased Kitty onto the bed, trying not to wince at the weak, pained sounds she made, and stepped back so that her aunt and maids could fuss over her.

Mr. Gardiner's hand on his elbow quickly guided him out of the room, and the door was shut promptly behind them. Mr. Stone shook his head a bit, bemused by the sudden exit.

"Well!" Mr. Gardiner sighed, clapping the younger's man's shoulder. "How about a brandy?"

Mr. Stone agreed readily. If the beating of his heart and the flush in his cheeks were any indication, there was a very good chance that a brandy would be needed as he came to terms with this new revelation. He only prayed he was not as obvious to Mr. Gardiner as he felt he was and that he would find some great reserve of patience – by all indications, Miss Catherine had several more months of mourning ahead of her. God willing, perhaps he could even help her through it.

His heart pounded at the thought that she might, perhaps, come to rely upon him – might value his opinions, his presence, his support and confidence. She was young, but she was older than his sister and he could not think of any objections from his family. Would her family object? Mr. Gardiner seemed to think well of him and hopefully would not consider either a betrayal of trust or a ploy to get further into his good graces. What about her parents? Landed gentry may not look so kindly upon a London clerk.

Mr. Gardiner's brandy was, indeed, much appreciated.


End file.
